


Love Lines

by unbelievable2



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humour, Implied Relationships, M/M, Sentinel Bingo, Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbelievable2/pseuds/unbelievable2
Summary: Rafe is geometrically challenged.





	Love Lines

**Author's Note:**

> As well as being a response to Sentinel Thursday prompt # 606 - "collapse", this fic also sneakily fills one of my Bingo squares – "Love Triangle"

"That's what I mean!" insisted Rafe, stabbing at the table with a forefinger, and managing to splash Henri Brown with yet more beer as he waved his bottle with the other hand. "That's what I mean, man!"

Henri sighed and caught the waving arm, bringing it in safely to land on the table. All around them the air was full of noisy chatter and laughter, but instead of having fun with the gang, here he was, stuck in one of the corner booths at Clancy's, listening to Rafe's tale of unrequited love. At least, that's what it sounded like. Frankly, Rafe was making little sense at that point, four bottles in (to Henri's certain knowledge, and the Lordy Lord knew how many he'd had before Henri had got there).

" _What’s_ what you mean?"

"Why I can't be with them at the bar right now! With her - the way she looks, the way she sounds… she's just perfect, you know? "

Henri followed his partner's gaze to where the goddess in question was draping herself over a bar-stool, stretching out her long legs and leaning forward to impart some witticism to Blair Sandburg, placing a hand on the man's forearm and just happening to flaunt a bit of cleavage at the same time. He shook his head; boy, the lady might pride herself in having a high booze-tolerance, but it didn't stop her inhibitions being lowered, same as everyone else. 

The head-shake turned in to a wince as said goddess let loose a particularly high-pitched laugh, and Henri distinctly heard the baffling words:

"And so I said, _'Mate, don't come the raw prawn with_ me _!'_ " 

"That voice…." groaned Rafe, putting his lead into his hands, "that cute accent, that tinkling laugh…."

Henri grimaced; the tinkling laugh, to his ears, sounded like a whinny from one of those highly-strung mares down the racetrack. Under cover of patting Rafe manfully on the shoulder and mopping up more beer, he covertly observed the action at the bar. Megan Connor was a pretty lady, no doubt about that, and he had guessed that his partner had been carrying a torch for her, but he hadn't realised quite how heavy and flaming a torch it was. She wasn't Henri's type, no sir, but hey, everyone was different. Whatever it took to make his partner happy….

He jostled Rafe' s shoulder a little.

"So, go on over, man! Buy her another white wine!" ( _not that she really needs one_ , he thought). "Charm her with your sartorial style! Faint heart never… never… got the gal, or whatever it is they say!" 

Henri could see what the problem was. Rafe was just nervous about approaching Megan. He just needed some friendly confidence-boosting. He beamed encouragingly at his partner, but to his surprise Rafe just gave him a despairing look.

"How can I, man!" he wailed – Henri made _shush_ -ing signs, though the wailing wasn't that audible over the general hubbub – "How can I, when she only has eyes for _him_!"

"Eh? Who?" And Rafe started with the drunken pointing again.

"Sandburg, of course! Are you blind, man? Why the hell that classy lady wastes her time with that little runt… oh, it’s breaking my heart!" He put his head back down on the beery table. 

Henri patted Rafe's back absently and peered again through the crowd at the couple at the bar. He never bothered much what his colleagues got up to privately – the guys were the guys you just went to work with; you didn't need to get embroiled in their home lives, too – but once he got past that boundary, he could see what Rafe meant. Megan was indeed all over Sandburg, monopolising his company, flaunting her undoubted charms. The booze had probably made her that much more daring tonight. Well, she was certainly giving it her all.

Hairboy, on the other hand, though nodding and smiling politely at the strange jokes while he sipped his beer, was far from reciprocating her advances. He jostled Rafe again.

"But Rafe, buddy! Hairboy don't look like he cares he's on the same planet as her…!" 

"Noooo, noooo," came a muffled groan from the table-top. "'Course he doesn't! He wants to be on Planet Ellison! Surely you can see that!" Rafe lifted his head a little and gazed over at the bar. "And she still doesn't even look my way! It’s like in the movies - the perfect Love Triangle!"

Rafe's head hit the table again, but Henri barely noticed. He frowned at Rafe's words, and glanced again at the bar, first to where Sandburg was sitting in the clutches of La Connor, and then over to where big, buff Jim Ellison stood, an unaccustomed hearty grin on his handsome face as he listened to one of Joel's entertaining stories. Then he looked back at Sandburg again. Blair's face might be angled politely towards Connor, but his body, and his eyes, were turned in Ellison's direction. Henri gave a silent whistle as a penny dropped.

"Wow! I see what you mean, man! But that don't make it a triangle, buddy! A triangle would be where it comes back to you – see? But here it goes off a-ways. It's only a Love Triangle if Ellison really wants Connor. To get it to come back to you, it would have to be a rectangle." Henri screwed his face up in concentration and did some calculations – not easy on a beer-filled Friday night . "Yeah, that's it! A Love Rectangle, if Ellison thought you were kinda cute…"

Rafe's head shop up off the table. His expression was one of horror.

"Wha'? Wha? You think? Oh, no, man! I am not up for that. I mean, I'm a good looking guy, I know, but that's not my scene. Oh, my God, H, do you really think so? You really think Ellison has the hots for me?"

Both men gazed over to the scene at the bar once more. Rafe groaned something barely comprehensible – about his image being toast, or so it sounded to Henri – and let his head fall back on the table. Henri hardly noticed his friend's latest collapse. He was watching Ellison.

All Henri could see clearly was the man's upper half, but that half was kitted out in a rather tight tee- shirt that showed his impressive muscles to advantage. And the blue of the shirt, thought Henri, kinda brought out the blue of Ellison's eyes real well, even at that distance. Overall, Jim was an impressive package – that much was evident on a daily basis to the whole team – but Jim himself never seemed to make a big deal of it. He gave the impression of being someone who knew the importance of keeping fit, but that was kind of where the image-awareness stopped… 

_Until now_ , thought Henri.

Because tonight Ellison wasn’t just the usual self-contained figure; he was open and expansive, and… man, it was like he was keen for the world to get an eyeful of what he had to offer. Or maybe it wasn't the _whole_ world? Henri wondered briefly whether Rafe's idea of a Love Triangle was right after all, and that Ellison was preening for Connor - though privately he thought the guy had a mite more taste. 

But then he saw it; the split-second slide of those intense blue eyes away from Joel and Simon, and over to where Sandburg sat. And Henri saw Sandburg's eyes lock on and hold Jim's gaze for that brief moment – the hubbub of the bar seemed to fade out as Henri watched, slack-jawed – and then their gaze broke. The noise and chatter surged up again, and it was just a bunch of colleagues having some end-of-week drinks.

This, mused Henri, was why he chose not to think too much about his colleagues' private lives.

"No, Rafe, buddy, I don’t think he has the hots for you," he said, more to himself than to his partner, who was now snoring lightly. "You and Connor are pretty safe. Me, though – I sure as hell need a beer!"

_~fin~_


End file.
